Seasons of Love
by CSIJaina
Summary: A collection of one-shots based on the song 'Seasons of Love' in no particular order. Will contain all canon pairings eventually. Chapter Two: Funerals, Angel, preRENT
1. Speeding Tickets

**AN: **Hey all! This is my first foray into Rent fanfic, so hopefully it came off alright. I know this idea has probably been used before, but it seemed a really good way to get some ideas and get going. I plan on using all characters and all canon pairings, though MoJo is my favourite, which may become evident. Thanks in advance for reading :)

Extra special thanks to my own Joanne for helping me out with this, love you Pookie!!!!!

**Speeding Tickets**

Joanne threw her car keys down onto the table after another long day at work. She loved what she did, but some days she wished that she could do just a little less of it.

"Maureen, I'm home!" she called as she picked up the mail that had been haphazardly dumped on the counter, stooping to grab the couple of envelopes that had landed on the ground instead. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead choosing to be pleased that Maureen had thought to grab the mail at all.

She wandered into the bedroom while she flipped through the mail, the silence of the house telling her that Maureen was definitely not home. She was about to toss the mail onto the bed when one envelope caught her eye. Flipping it over she opened it, and pulled out a photo-radar speeding ticket. She eyed the piece of paper like it had done something wrong, then closely scrutinized the car, just like she had done the last two times. Deciding that it was definitely her car (she could tell from the scratch on the bumper obtained during Maureen's first driving lesson), she threw the ticket on the bed and sighed, resolving to ask Maureen about these tickets tonight when she got back.

* * *

"Pookie, I'm home! We had the best time at the loft tonight, Mark got Collins going on some philosophy thing, and I totally beat both of them in the argument, even though I had no idea what they were talking about… Watcha doin'?" Maureen wandered into their bedroom, looking attractive in a tank-top and figure-hugging jeans.

"Checking the mail; did you by any chance notice this speeding ticket?" At the mention of speeding ticket Joanne could have sworn she saw a guilty expression flicker over Maureen's face, but it was gone almost quicker than it appeared, and she dismissed it without even really thinking about it.

"No, I didn't really look, I just tossed them. Why? Are you turning into a little speed-demon, Pookie?" Maureen asked, pulling Joanne closer to her and running her hands up her sides in a very distracting manner.

"I guess I should keep a closer eye on my speedometer…" Joanne mumbled, mostly to herself as Maureen pulled her onto the bed. The topic was soon forgotten however, as the two of them found something better to do.

* * *

"Okay, you've checked the mirrors and your seat adjustment, and made sure there isn't anything behind the car, so now you can back out," Joanne instructed, as Maureen began to back out of the parking spot. They pulled out onto the main road without incident, and Joanne began to relax into the rhythm of Maureen's surprisingly careful and smooth driving.

Maureen shot a large grin towards the passenger seat. "See Pookie, I don't understand why you won't trust me with your car without you. I'm super-careful, and you've been giving me lessons for three months now, and other than that first time when the streetlight jumped out behind me out of nowhere, nothing's gone wrong. Even you tell me I'm a good driver. So why can't I take the car when you're not here?" Maureen pouted at Joanne for a second before returning her attention to the road.

"Maureen you don't have a driver's license! It would be illegal!" Joanne retorted, suppressing the urge to be surprised that Maureen would even ask.

"So… At least I'm not the one who keeps getting speeding tickets," Maureen responded, looking triumphant.

Joanne didn't know how to respond to that; every couple of weeks for the last two months another photo-radar ticket would appear in the mail, though she didn't quite know how. She had begun to dread driving, hence why she was letting Maureen drive home from the restaurant tonight. She stared stonily ahead, ignoring Maureen's jab. Luckily Maureen seemed to take the hint, focusing her attention on the road rather than riling her girlfriend for a change. By the time they pulled back into the parking lot at their apartment, Joanne had regained her normal attitude, and figured she at least owed Maureen something.

"Tell you what, sweetie. After you've taken your driving test in three months, assuming that you pass the first time, then you can take the car when I'm not using it, no questions asked."

For a second Maureen looked like she was about to refuse, then her face all of a sudden brightened. "Okay Pookie! I'll pass my test on the first try, so you'd better get yourself ready to start sharing your car!" Maureen opened the door and practically leaped out of the car. "Race you to our bedroom!" She took off without even taking the keys out of the ignition, leaving Joanne to collect their stuff, and wondering if giving Maureen full rein over her car was such a good idea.

* * *

A month and a half later found Joanne pulled over on the side of the road, a police car with its lights flashing sidling up behind her. She groaned and gently banged her head on the steering wheel wondering what had gone wrong. She most certainly hadn't been speeding – though there had only been one ticket in the mail the last six weeks, her paranoia was beginning to get the better of her, causing her to drive slower than what was probably necessary. Seeing the cop approaching her car, she rolled the window down.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you aware of the speed limit along this road?"

"Yes, officer. The posted limit is 60 miles per hour, and I certainly wasn't speeding."

"No, actually, you were going too slow and impeding the flow of traffic. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to write you a ticket."

Normally the lawyer in Joanne would have kicked in right about then and started arguing, but she was feeling too defeated. The only thought running through her head at the moment was '_I_ _can't believe that Maureen is a better driver than me_.'

* * *

A month later Joanne was at work, sorting through files that she would need for an upcoming case. Glancing at the clock she realized it was almost time for lunch. She was excited because there was this new Chinese place that she had wanted to try, but her enthusiasm quickly faded as she realized she wouldn't have time to make it there and back, seeing as she had left her car at home. She had convinced herself this morning it was because she needed the fresh air, and because she always enjoyed meeting the sometimes interesting set of people that took the subway. Not because of the ten speeding tickets she had neatly filed away at home. It had nothing to do with that.

Sighing, she carefully put the files she had been working on away and grabbed her jacket off the hook on the door. Just as she was leaving her phone rang. She hung at the doorway for a couple of seconds, wavering as to whether she really wanted to answer it or not; surely whoever it was could wait until she got back? However, the anal retentive part of her won out in the end, and she moved back to her desk.

"Joanne Jefferson," she spoke into the receiver.

"Pookie?" came the quiet voice from the other end.

"Maureen? Is that you?" Joanne had never heard her lover's voice sound so unsure. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Um, I kinda need a favour. Can you come get me? I'm, uh, at the hospital."

Immediately any thoughts Joanne had been having about Maureen's drama queen personality vanished, replaced in an instant by deep-seated concern. "What?! Are you okay, is everyone okay? Is it Roger, Mimi, Angel?" Joanne's mind was working overtime, coming up with hundreds of situations that could end with Maureen in the hospital, each one worse than the one before.

"No, no. Everyone's fine, I just, uh, had a bit of an accident, and they won't let me leave without someone signing me out. I hate to call while you're at work, but I couldn't figure anything else out."

Joanne resisted the urge to retort as Maureen's favourite pastime was bugging her while she was at work, but her lingering concern was still winning out so Maureen wasn't going to be called out on that. For the moment. "Of course, Honeybear, just let me run home to get my car, and I'll be right there. Which hospital?"

"Cornell, but it's just off the subway. Could you just come straight here? Please?"

Joanne knew that she could never resist that tone of voice, so she agreed, and was out of her office as quickly as she could be.

* * *

Joanne entered the hospital, and aimed to make an immediate beeline for the desk to ask about Maureen's whereabouts. However, before she got there, her eyes landed on someone who could only be her girlfriend. No one else could have pulled off the outfit that Maureen was wearing and still made it look completely natural. However, nothing else about Maureen looked natural. Her normally exuberant attitude seemed to be completely missing, and she had her head bowed as she hunched in the seat. Definitely not normal. On top of that, she seemed completely ignorant of the rather gorgeous woman that was sitting next to her. Alarm bells started going off in Joanne's head. Moving over to Maureen, she sat in the seat beside her, and gently laid her hand on Maureen's thigh.

"Maureen, I'm here. Are you okay, what happened?"

Maureen raised her head at the sound of Joanne's voice and the touch of her hand. Joanne took in the neat line of stitches on Maureen's forehead, as well as the bruising above her right eye. Glancing down she noticed that one wrist had been expertly wrapped in a tensor bandage and was being cradled close to Maureen's body.

"Honey?" she questioned Maureen once more, having received no response the first time.

"Pookie, there you are. I'm ready to leave, can we leave?" Her eyes were moving around nervously, not quite willing to meet Joanne's. She was also wearing what almost could be considered a guilty expression, which was not something that Joanne ever expected that she would see on her lover's face.

"Maureen, are you okay? What happened to you?" Joanne's eyes roved the rest of her girlfriend's body, looking for any other injuries.

"I'm fine, can we just go? Please, Pookie? I just want to leave."

"We aren't leaving until I'm sure that you're alright, and for that I need to know what happened," Joanne replied. "I care about you Maureen, you know that. You can tell me."

"I was in an accident. Can we go home now?" Maureen's pleading hazel eyes finally met Joanne's. It wasn't going to work.

"I need a little more than that, Honeybear."

Maureen gave a resigned sigh. "A car accident. Now can we go?"

"A car accident? Who was driving? Were you out with Roger? Is he okay?" Joanne began looking around, searching for anyone else that she recognized. When her eyes landed back on Maureen, Joanne found that her girlfriend was squirming uncomfortably in her seat. "Maureen?" Joanne questioned, guessing where this might be going, but desperately hoping that she was wrong.

Maureen just hung her head lower, once again refusing to meet Joanne's eyes.

"Were you driving? By yourself?" Maureen's slight whimper was all the affirmation she needed. Dreading the answer, she still felt the need to ask the question. "Where did you get the car?"

Maureen finally raised her head and looked at her with the guiltiest expression that Joanne had ever seen on someone. And coming from a lawyer, that meant something.

"Oh, Maureen…" Joanne closed her eyes and rocked back on her heels, not quite sure what to think.

"Are you mad at me?" Maureen's newly developed quiet and childish voice asked.

Joanne sighed, not sure how to answer that question. Of course she was mad, but Maureen was hurt, and she cared more about her girlfriend than she did about her car. Her new car. That she still hadn't finished paying for yet.

"Yes, I'm a little mad, but I'm more concerned about you right now. You're sure your okay?"

"Uh huh, some stitches, bruises, sprained wrist." The blank and slightly traumatized expression that Maureen was still wearing told Joanne that she'd probably be hearing more later, but for now, Maureen still seemed to be a little too shell-shocked and guilty to fully realize what had happened.

Joanne got to her feet, satisfied that she had gotten as much out of her girlfriend as she was going to, and now just ready to get Maureen home. After filling out some forms she returned to the seat where Maureen was still waiting.

"Okay, Maureen, let's go home." They both got up and made their way out of the hospital, Maureen a little more gingerly than Joanne.

On the subway, Joanne glanced over at Maureen, getting ready to ask the question she'd been dreading. "So, the car… Is it…?" Her hopeful tone died out upon seeing Maureen's expression.

"I'm sorry, Joanne."

Joanne suspected that she actually was. Deciding to venture on while Maureen was still quiet and compliant, Joanne asked her next question. "You've been driving my car without a licence for awhile, haven't you?"

Maureen's newly acquired (and quickly becoming redundant) posture answered the question for her.

"I can't believe that you would-" Wait, she was talking about Maureen. "You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything." Regaining her composure, she continued. "All the photo-radar tickets. Those weren't mine, were they?"

A slight head shake.

"So, you've been driving my car without a licence, getting speeding tickets and letting me think that they were mine, and now my car is totalled. Is there anything else you haven't told me?"

Silently, Maureen reached into her pocket and pulled out a yellow slip of paper. Passing it over to Joanne, she said, "I just got another ticket for driving without a licence."

Joanne wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.


	2. Funerals

**Funerals**

Chapter Summary: 'My cat had a fall and I went through hell…'

Disclaimer: Whoops, forgot this the first time. But since nobody seemed to think that I own RENT, I think I'll get away with it. RENT is owned by Jonathan Larson, Revolution Studios and 1492 Pictures (with Colombia Pictures) and probably some more wonderful people that I am ignorant of (including whoever filmed the final Broadway show). Thanks for sharing RENT with the world, you touched more lives than you can ever imagine.

* * *

He had been staring into the closet for the last ten minutes looking for something appropriate, but whatever that was just didn't seem to be there. His eyes passed over the single dress-suit that was in there, the three pairs of black slacks and the odd black shirt, but nothing fit. He had one more place that he could try though, and so with a furtive glance left and right to make sure that no one was in the hallway, he quickly snuck across to his parents' room.

Pulling open the closet, his mind drifted while his eyes wandered over the clothes that were inside. Yesterday his cat had died. Whenever his cat was out at night, when she wanted in she'd jump onto the roof, and walk across a narrow ledge to his bedroom window, then meow until he let her in. But a couple of days ago she hadn't come. When he woke up the next morning and went outside, he found her lying on the ground underneath his second-story window. The vet said that she must have fallen, though no one was sure why. She died two days later. Her name was Angel, and she had been his best friend. Today was her funeral.

As his eyes sightlessly swept across the clothes something caught his eye. It was a dress of his mother's; long and black, with full sleeves and a flowing skirt. For whatever reason, it felt right. He pulled it out of the closet and slipped it on. It fitted like a glove. A pair of low black heels completed the outfit. He spun once in front of the mirror, and for the first time since he had found Angel, he gave a small smile.

"Andrew!" came his mother's voice from downstairs. "Please come down now! I know that you loved this cat, but we need to get this done sometime today."

He turned and dutifully went downstairs, completely ignorant to the fact that he was wearing a dress, which his parents might find a little, well, odd. As he came down the stairs, something else hit him. Before his parents even had a chance to get a word out of their mouths he told them, "I'd like to be called Angel from now on." And without another word _she_ swept passed them into the backyard, to bury one of the best parts of her life.


End file.
